#redraindrop’s writing

[redraindrops]

Your average Doberman Pinscher prays to be a parrot in its next life. It stares up at the stars, alone in the darkness and through the window he watches a crow fly. There is a forest-green collar around its neck that leads directly to its owner’s hand as they lay asleep on the couch. Its ears, cropped by a thousand previous owners, swivel at each noise.

The shadows have eyes, or at least that is what the Doberman Pinscher believes at each slight sound, each hint of disturbance.

When its owner wakes, stands and moves, the Doberman Pinscher will follow close by, far closer than its chain declares necessary, because it is a damn loyal dog. It will always walk a step behind, a sign of its inferiority.

As its owner goes throughout their day, the Doberman Pinscher just close enough to traipse after but trying not to annoy, it wishes for vibrant wings. To be a bird is to be free, and although the dog loves its owner it wishes it was capable of being on its own.

It isn’t. The Doberman Pinscher is far too domesticated at this point to be feral and self-sufficient.

The Doberman Pinscher’s fur is dull, boring. It thinks its owner probably gets tired of looking at it all the time. The parrot shows off, dancing and preening his bright feathers. The Doberman Pinscher’s dull nails click sadly on the tile floor, and the parrot’s talons dig sharply into flesh.

As the Doberman Pinscher leans its head to eat, it imagines being a parrot, picking at the rainforest floor. To be a parrot is variety, something other than the monotonous kibble the Doberman Pinscher is fed, something other than this same, repetitive goddamn life of being tied to someone else, of being so adoring and braindead that it cannot even develop its own identity.

Parrots have identities. They move and greet each other and chirp, with their own voices and own feather coloration. Parrots are special, and parrots are intelligent.

The Doberman Pinscher can only recognize a few words, like ‘love’ and ‘leaving’ and ‘traitor.’ It wishes for the full, robust vocabulary of the parrot, and knows it may never achieve it with how its brain is never for itself but for its owner.

It wishes it knew how to live.

The parrot will swoop around the rainforest, wild and free and cawing all the way as the wind rushes through its feathers and it is alive, independent and never bound by shackles.

The Doberman Pinscher will sit on the floor looking out the window with its chain looped around its owner's hand. There will be a crow, a poor mockery of the parrot’s vibrancy like everything else the Doberman Pinscher knows.

The Doberman Pinscher would be happy to be anything but a dog at this point.

#redraindrop’s writing #what do I tag this as #short story #canine story #like canine poetry but not a poem I guess #metaphors #parrot #dog #doberman pinscher #so much symbolism

[redraindrops]

An original poem, titled: To Be a Cat

To be a cat is to be loved

It is warm sunspots and beds

It is food at routine times, even if the hand is gloved

It doesn’t matter that your human refuses to butt heads

To be a cat is to be changed

It is being held close when you haven’t been held before

It is new rules that were never before arranged

It doesn’t matter that maybe you want to be more

To be a cat is to be hurt

It is an accidental step on the tail

It is them bringing home a new kitten, wrapped in a shirt

It doesn’t matter that you know they are given higher detail

To be a cat is to grow old

It is meant to happen, a semblance of natural remnants

It is watching the kitten take complete hold

It doesn’t matter that you barely feel included in the list of tenants

To be a cat is to leave

It is simply a consequence of all that has occurred

It is what is best for you, rather than letting your human deceive

It doesn’t matter that they will bemoan your ‘running away,’ even though this is the first time that you have purred.

#poetry #poem #original poem #cat poetry #metaphor #redraindrop’s writing